When Doctors Can't Leave Their Faces Alone
by Tristan-the-Dreamer
Summary: Trauma Center: New Blood. Markus has a rogue eyelash. Val has cystic acne. Are they going to be able to just ignore it? Probably not. Bonus included. Genres: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship/Romance/Angst/Humor. Rated for language and medical grossness. :P
1. Once Upon an Eyelash

**"Once Upon an Eyelash"** by Tris

Okie dokie, so I've worked on this story about 5 weeks and figured I should unveil it now. Another chapter is coming, but it's a complementary chapter, not strictly a sequel. So I won't leave you on a cliff! Part II of Burned and Broken is coming along very well, as is the conclusion to the Prof. Wilken's fic. Robert isn't going quite as smoothly, but coming along none the less. I'm also working on another Leo story, plus another Wilkens story and about 15 more random TC stories so yeah…heh heh…slow and steady, slow and steady!!

If this seems like an extreme treatment of an eyelash, I assure you, this all happened to me. That's what inspired this story. The breathing thing, everything, all happened. So it's possible for an eyelash to be this much of a pain!

Finally, reviews are welcomed with open arms!

* * *

"Hey Markus," Val said, stepping into his office doorway. "Are you getting some paperwork_…_Markus? Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I've just got something in my eye."

"Rubbing it's going to make it worse."

"I can't help it, it itches like crazy!" Markus scrubbed at his left eye, gripping the edge of his desk with his other hand.

Visibly concerned, Val stepped into the room. "Markus, you're going to make yourself blind. And stop holding your breath!"

Markus emptied his lungs in a rush and began breathing in uneven gasps. However, he rubbed his eye even more fiercely, letting out a restrained but still intense noise of discomfort.

"I think I should take a look at this." Val strode forward and grasped his wrist, wrestling it away from where it had glued itself to his face.

"Val, _please_, I can take care of this myself…"

Undaunted, she gently but firmly pushed his arms away before carefully prying his eyelid open. The brown iris was rolled back in exasperation, but his shoulders relaxed fractionally as he saw the intense concern in Val's face.

"It's getting bloodshot…but, I don't see any foreign objects."

"Can you wrap this up, nurse? This is really uncomfortable," Markus said through his teeth, as his eye desperately tried to crunch closed.

"Markus, hold still and stop being cranky. I want to make sure I don't miss anything." She peered at the slender lances of red shot through the white of his eye.

Tears began welling up behind the lower lid of the irritated eye; they spilled over and trickled down his cheek. "Ugh—uck—Val, can you hand me a tissue please?" Shamefaced, Markus brought his fingers up to his nose.

Val stretched out her hand, plucking a Kleenex from the blue cardboard box on his desk. She handed it over with a sympathetic look.

"Thangs." Markus wiped his nose, sniffling. His eye was clenched shut. "Arrgh, this ITCHES!" He ground his knuckles into the eye, producing a soft squeaky sound due to the moisture from the tears.

"_Markus—_oh, the tears washed out an eyelash; I guess it was under your top lid. That must be what was bothering you."

"Wonderful. I don't feel any different."

"You should flush your eye with water. There could be something else in there."

"You're probably right," Markus said, giving his nose a final rub and throwing away the crumpled Kleenex. "But right now I'd rather just curl up and die. I think it would end the pain faster."

"Come on, Markus. Our patients go through way more than—"

"Not a lecture, Val. At least, not when I'm on the brink of insanity."

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry. But you need to wash out your eye; I'll help you if you need."

"You're sweet, Val. Thanks." Markus smiled through his pain. "And you're right--I'm cranky."

"Well, I can't really blame you," Val admitted. "Rogue eyelashes are a pain in the neck. Come on, let's go." Val grasped his arm and pulled gently.

Slowly, Markus got to his feet. "How would you know? Has this happened to you?" He asked as they headed down the hall.

"Yes, it has, and I was doing a cat dissection to boot!"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I couldn't touch my face because my hands were covered in feline body fluids. I just closed my eye and bit my tongue in half."

"Why were you dissecting a cat? Did you want to be a vet?"

"No, it was in high school Bio lab. Our Professor had a bit of a phobia concerning the beaten path. He figured since people usually cut open fetal pigs, he'd get a couple barrels of dead cats."

"Oh, yuck!" Markus had to laugh at the gross mental image.

"Yeah, exactly. I felt like a mad scientist's apprentice." Val laughed with him, but worry flickered in her hazel eyes as she saw he was still struggling slightly for air. "Ah, we're here."

They'd arrived at the tiny unisex bathroom, the only bathroom in the Alaskan hospital. After knocking sharply, Val opened the door and led Markus to the sink where she turned on the cold water. "Now splash this all over your eye."

Groaning slightly as the effect of laughter therapy faded, Markus cupped his hand under the faucet and caught a palmful of the frigid liquid. He began bathing his eye, forcing it to stay open as he dashed the water over the corneal surface. Val stood beside him, trying to keep his spirits up with words of encouragement and support. Finally he grabbed some paper towels and dried his hands and face as they headed back to his office.

"Better?" Val asked as they stepped inside.

"Y-yeah, I think so." Markus made a beeline for the bed that was there for snowbound nights. He dropped onto the edge and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

"Your breathing still isn't back to normal, though." Val noted, finally vocalizing her concern. "Does your chest hurt?"

"No, it's weird; it's like my throat is sealed shut. The air presses inside me, but it can't get out unless I consciously will it. I guess breathing has become voluntary for the moment."

"It's probably just stress." Val grasped his shoulders. "Deep breath in…"

He filled his lungs dutifully.

"Now out through your mouth…_mouth_, Markus."

"I didn't brush my teeth this morning."

Val laughed quietly. "It doesn't matter, as long as you didn't have garlic shrimp for breakfast."

"No, I didn't," Markus said, looking worn. His fingers suddenly flew to his face. "Is my eye twitching!?"

"The area under your eyebrow did for a second, but it's stopped now." She looked at him thoughtfully, taking in his drooping posture and uneven breathing. "Tell you what, Markus. There's…forty-five minutes until our next patient, and it's just a routine physical. Why don't you relax for a while?"

"Yeah, I think I will. You have work to do, I assume?"

She shook her head and sat down on the bed beside him. "I'm staying here until I'm satisfied that your breathing is easier."

Markus sighed quietly and turned to look at her. His breathing was getting slightly steadier already. "Thanks, Val. I really mean it." He had his serious face on. "Not everyone would take the time for a dumb eyelash."

"Well…you're my friend, Markus, and I care about you."

He put his arm around her back, and they sat in companionable silence for quite a while.


	2. Eyelash Bonus: Val's Bio Lab

Note—this bonus is silly, gross, ridiculous, and completely over the top. If you are in a serious, pensive mood, do not read this…unless you really want to. I mean, remember what Val called her teacher—"mad scientist." XD

The point of this story is to experience what Val was talking about in "Once Upon an Eyelash." Therefore I don't really go into her reactions or emotions too much, I'm just trying to relate what happened. So without further ado…and yes a real second chapter will be up as soon as it's ready…let's go to high school with Val!

Oh yeah, I got some OC's here--

Gene Whittaker Taylor, High School student

Fritz Paul Verre, Biology Professor

Feel free to use 'em, just give credit. I got to like them pretty well.

* * *

**"Val's Bio Lab" **by Tris 

Val Blaylock squirmed with excitement as she entered her high school biology lab. The lab benches, shelves of clear chemicals, and drawers housing all manner of instruments always made her feel as if she was taking real steps to reach her dream…For as long as she could remember, she'd wanted to wear a white coat, and have a stethoscope hugging her neck. Just wait…

"Huh?" She suddenly realized she was being stared at by the entire class, including the teacher.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," he rasped, sulfur-blue eyes burning holes in her skull. "We must get started NOW! So go to the lab bench. There is your spot," he jabbed a lean finger at a vacant space. "Your partner will be here shortly as usual. HURRY!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going sir!" Val hurried to the lab bench and flung her backpack on the smooth black surface.

"It's not okay!" He raged. "Time spent doing anything but blazing trails of knowledge is time wasted! WASTED!" He recovered his breath and smoothed the front of his incredibly stained lab coat. "Right, now I know in your lab manual it details the dissection of fetal pigs. I assume you've carefully studied the plan, memorized the procedure, done it mentally and practiced sketches of bone and muscle just because?"

Everyone nodded. This was the AP class.

"That's what I was expecting. Well, I'm sorry to inform you that we are not going to dissect pigs today. Gene, bring 'em in!" His voice rose in childish ecstasy. "I have quite a surprise for you, my young protegés, oh yes, I think you'll be pleased with this…I'd have cake to celebrate if there wasn't such a high risk of contamination with the chemicals."

Gene, an incredibly jaded looking lab assistant, was average height but quite bony. His straight blonde hair was bleached almost to the roots, and kelly-green eyes smoldered with barely hidden passion and disgust. The goggles strapped on his forehead and wrinkled labcoat tied around his waist complemented the rebellious gleam in his eyes. It took a couple seconds before Val and the others could drag their eyes from him to the huge barrels he was pushing on a two-deckered shiny metal cart. The wheels squeaked periodically as he threw his painfully lean frame against the—literally—dead weight.

"Got all of them?" The Professor rubbed his thin but powerful hands together rapidly; his fire-red hair was slightly spiky with delighted sweat. "You didn't miss barrel #2, did you?"

"No, Prof. Verre. I got them all." Gene came to a stop and stepped back, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. They, like his shirt, hung slack on his body.

"Alright, go join your lab partner." He jerked a thumb toward Val, and sighed. "I can't understand why every semester it's impossible to find a certified lab assistant. Who is willing to work for me, that is," Prof. Verre amended. "It was suggested at the last faculty meeting that trading cash for volunteer time from a student borders on inappropriate, but I just screamed some sense into that idiot."

He finished his speech with a cheerful smile, then bent down to pull a crowbar out of a cabinet. He shoved one end of it under the rim of a barrel labeled "#1," and pressed down with all his might. On the tenth try, the lid cracked open and the enchanting smell of formaldehyde wafted into the room.

"Here we go! Here we go!" The Prof. chanted like a sports fan as he set the barrel lid aside. "Ready or not…" he plunged his ungloved hands deep into the barrel and pulled out…

Silence fell in the room. One student accidentally knocked a pencil onto the floor and the noise reverberated like shockwaves.

"We're going to dissect…cats?" A chunky boy asked, disbelieving. "I thought that—"

"We were going to do fetal pigs. Well we're not, got it good. Moving onwards…" The Prof. stretched out the cat for all to see, full length, like it was a zombie cat show. "Oh, just wait 'til you see this baby's viscera…the variety in the shades of red are jaw-dropping. I'm ecstatic that we've finally arrived at this section of the course…"

Val turned and gaped at Gene, who just gave her a level stare that clearly stated, "Sister, you haven't seen anything yet."

She sighed quietly and blinked as she joined the line to pick out a dissection subject. It was starting to feel like something might be in her eye.


	3. So Close, and Yet

"**So Close, Yet…" by Tris**

**A/N: **Here is chapter two—not counting the bonus—of my weird story "When Doctors Can't Leave Their Faces Alone." Thanks for being patient, y'all. This one was tricky to pin down properly. You don't even want to know how stupid the first draft was. And, this is a bit darker than I originally planned, so don't read if you're already down in the dumps! Unfortunately, this story is inspired by real life. Mild gore warning.

**Disclaimer: **Markus, Val, Trauma Center, Dr. Chen, and Concord Hospital are from New Blood and copyright Atlus. Oh and I don't own Koosh balls either. Don't make any money from this, nope. I need to make something like, "Blood pools are red, bruises are blue, Atlus owns everything, writing's all I do." Or something. XP

* * *

"Okay, I see what you mean. But it's not all that bad, is it?"

Val sighed and brought her fingers to her right cheek, gently touching the lumps under her skin. "It's just going to get worse. Have you ever had it before?"

"Thankfully, no."

"The cysts will eventually break through the skin. There's bleeding, pus, sometimes scars. The cysts spread everywhere…and they hurt, dang it! I hate feeling like I have these…poison time bombs under my skin."

Markus' brows knit. "Have you contacted a dermatologist?"

"No. I will either today or tomorrow."

"Okay, just do it soon." He sat on the couch beside her, careful not to jog his coffee mug as he smothered a yawn with the back of his non-mug hand. "Just…try to forget about it for now."

"Yeah, I know I should."

"No coffee?" He took a cautious sip of the burning hot liquid.

"No; caffeine and I don't mix well."

"I don't drink a lot of it, but—Val, get your hand away from your face!"

"Hmm?" Her thumb and index finger had found their way on either side of a painful-looking swelling on her cheek, and were beginning to come dangerously close together. The swelling was starting to bulge. "Oh. Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"You don't need to apologize, I'm just afraid for _you_."

"Well—thanks, Markus." Val smiled shyly.

"No problem." Markus slowly blinked heavily lidded eyes and gave a long yawn. Rubbing his jaw, he said, "Val, if you don't mind, it's my break and I'm exhausted. I think I'm gonna crash for a while." He set the hot mug on the table, rolled onto his side, drew up his knees, and was out like a light. He was warm, relaxed, and happy…Val was nearby, he was erasing a bit of his sleep-debt, and in a soft place at that. He drifted into the weird logic of dreamland and was sitting by a waterfall when there was a loud pop and…a gasp?

Jolted awake, his eyes flew open and he sat up quickly. He met an awful sight; the wandering finger and thumb had finally come together in a vice-grip. Val stared at him in shock as blood began streaming down her cheek. "Wh…wh..what?"

"Holy crap, Val! What the hell was that?"

"I…I must have burst a cyst!"

"Apparently so; you look like you've been shot in the face!" The words were out before he could stop them.

"Are you serious?" She touched her cheek and brought away fingers covered in maroon. "Oh, no!" She stood up quickly and crossed the room to the lounge bathroom.

"Val…!"

"I'm fine, Markus." She stepped in and shut the door behind her; the lock clicked.

* * *

All that had happened too long ago for Markus' comfort. He was flopped down in one of the lounge couches, berating himself for falling asleep. Eventually, though, he made himself get over it. He couldn't undo the past so he might as well live for the future…his eyes became fixated on the wall clock. As the second hand jerked to the 12 mark yet again, he sprang to his feet. "Val, you've been in there a long time, and something tells me this isn't a 'time of the month' thing." Markus stood in front of the bathroom door, arms crossed. "What are you doing?"

"Um…nothing." Her voice was preoccupied. "I'll be out in just a minute, Markus."

"Uh-huh…you said that 25 minutes ago."

"Oh…really? Um…well, this time I mean it."

"Open the damn door, Valerie."

Slowly, the doorknob turned and the door opened. Head lowered, Val stepped out. He could see from the trashcan overflowing with bloody Kleenex that she had been trying to staunch the flow, but blood was still wet on the side of her face. "Am I still recognizable?" she asked with a sheepish look.

"Val…" He sighed and put his arm around her. "C'mon, let's go get some gauze. O.R. three should be empty." She nodded, pressing yet another handful of tissues to her face as they left the lounge. As they paced down the hall, Val tried to keep her head at a casual angle so her short brown locks fell gracefully over her bloody face.

As they entered the vacated operating room, her nervous smile fell away and was replaced by annoyance and embarrassment. "I thought that hall would never end…" Her voice echoed, as did their footsteps.

Markus crossed the room, cutting across a sun square from the skylight. "I'd patch you up here, Val, but I think Dr. Chen is slated to use this room in ten minutes. Plus, I don't want to make more work for Lottie."

"Yeah, I'd feel more comfortable in my own office anyway. Let's just get what we need and leave." Val shot a glance out into the hall as a doctor walked past.

"That's what I figured," Markus grunted, stretching to open a cabinet door where spare supplies were kept. He grabbed a small box of gauze, roll of cloth tape, tube of antibiotic gel and a package of rubber gloves. "Okay, let's go."

"Markus—wait."

"What?"

"I…I feel like such a fool. I'm sorry you got into this; just give me the supplies, I can bandage myself." She paused. "And I-I'm ashamed for you to see me like this."

Markus frowned, then shook his head with a faint blush. "Val, please, I want to take care of you. I'm not going to laugh, if that's what you're worried about. Besides," he added, cracking a gentle smile, "I'm not sure I want your hands anywhere near your face right now."

"Okay, Markus…you win." She shared the smile with him before following him out the door.

* * *

Val's office had a huge window overlooking the grassy field; at this time of late

afternoon it was the color of sun-melted gold. Sluggish, drunk-sounding cicadas were droning their day away, and a slight wind rippled the beige curtains as the two doctors entered.

"So how are you doing?" Markus asked, shutting the door behind them. "Lemme see. Val, I told you I wouldn't laugh! Don't you trust me?"

"Y-yeah. It's just embarrassing. I can't believe I did that—where was my self-control? You must think I'm a disgusting self-mutilator, Markus."

"Nah." Markus snapped on the rubber gloves. "I've never had cystic acne, but I think I understand. I'm guessing it's like when you have a loose tooth and it's not ready to come out yet, but you just keep twisting and tugging it. It would be a whole lot easier if you let it drop out by itself, but…that's not human nature, I guess. We're too impatient."

"Yeah, you're right." Val sat down in an armchair with a sigh, still pressing the Kleenex to her cheek. "When I know I have these little time bombs under my skin, I sort of lose it. Especially since the oral antibiotic made them go away for a while. And for some bizarre reason, I managed to convince myself that doing this would…make my face look normal again. Like nothing ever happened."

"The mind is strange sometimes. Take away the tissues, please." He looked carefully. "The bleeding has stopped. Let me see the damage." He reached out and gently took her jaw and chin between his thumb and index finger. As he examined the wounds a faint tightness grew around his eyes and mouth.

"It looks bad, doesn't it?"

"Well it doesn't look _good, _that's for sure. I'm going to disinfect it with the antibiotic gel now; this might sting a bit."

"Okay, I'm ready."

Markus gently applied the gel, making sure to cover every angry red puncture. "How's it going?"

"It…stings," Val admitted through clenched teeth. "It feels inflamed too."

"Yeah, your cheek is swelling some. Hang in there, Val, I'm halfway done." He glanced down and saw that her fingernails were gouging into her arm. Pausing in his work, he glanced around the room, his eyes settling on a purple Koosh ball atop the side table. He pulled off one glove, grabbed the toy and brushed her hand with it until she opened her eyes. "Here; squeeze this. Or pull all the little rubber strands out, I don't care. Where did you get this thing, anyway?" He yanked his glove back on and picked up the gel.

"Oh, I've had this since I was a little girl." Val curled her fingers around the toy and her knuckles blanched rapidly. "My best friend gave it to me for a—rgh!"

"Sorry, Val. You really clawed yourself up good." He finished dabbing the gel on her skin with his gloved thumb as quickly and thoroughly as he could. "Done with that part." He peeled off his gloves, balled them up and threw them into the trash. "Now…we just have to cover it up." He pulled a plastic-wrapped square of gauze out of the small cardboard laminated box, tore it open, and lifted the square out by a corner. "Hey, can you hold the gauze right here?" He lay it carefully over the wounds.

"Sure." Val held it steady with her fingertips as he got the white cloth tape. With practiced ease, he ripped off several sections and secured the bandage with the perfect tension.

"There. Good as new." He patted the bandage with infinite care, letting his fingertips rest on her face for a few seconds.

Val shrugged impatiently. "Markus, you know that's not true. I'm probably going to have scars, and with my skin tone, they'll be like screaming neon signs. What you did will keep down infections, but…"

"Oh. Um…wow. I…"

The drunken cicadas filled the silence with slurred, suddenly ugly singing.

"So…"

"Yeah."

"I guess I should—get back to work."

"Yeah, probably."

Markus forced a tiny smile and stepped back. And then he was at her desk, and then the door, and one foot was out in the hall, and all the time Val's chest heaved with repressed screams.

He pulled his foot back, oscillant, smile a pitiable mask.Giving a soft exhale of laughter, he closed his eyes in mockery of everything—and was gone with a two-finger salute.

_Fin_

* * *

**A/N:** Whoa…that was not how I planned it! It had a happy ending, but it felt extremely forced and cliché so in disgust I deleted the last quarter page, and rewrote from scratch off the top of my head. And…I wasn't expecting it to be so despairing! Kinda Hemingway-ish. Tell me if the style switch is too abrupt; I felt the story needed to be closed quickly.


End file.
